


Only the Wild Ones

by setmeatopthepyre



Category: Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency (TV 2016)
Genre: F/M, Shapeshifting, Tumblr Prompt, could be pre-drummerwolf, fairytale AU, there's a relationship but it's not necessarily romantic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-29
Updated: 2018-04-01
Packaged: 2019-03-11 02:31:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13514859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/setmeatopthepyre/pseuds/setmeatopthepyre
Summary: Two villages, two outcasts. One, a man rumored to have the shadow of a wolf; the other a girl who dreams of leaving her quiet life and finding adventure - a dream that comes true all too fast when she is blamed for a crime she didn't commit and flees into the woods.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> In response to a mixtape ask game I received a prompt for 'a mixtape that's conceptually a drummerwolf fairytale AU' and then this happened. Each number corresponds to a track and I will update with the full tracklist once all three chapters are up.
> 
>  
> 
> You can listen to the tracks so far [here on Spotify](https://open.spotify.com/user/obstakel/playlist/3Z2Ymm48chdOTaf0Q1A7Un?si=J47BnLUYTveHIAK4IRA3vg).  
> Track list:  
> 1\. Wolfman Agenda by Shakey Graves  
> 2\. Second Child, Restless Child by The Oh Hellos  
> 3\. Something Wild by Lindsey Stirling  
> 4\. She Lit A Fire by Lord Huron  
> 5\. Nature Boy by AURORA  
> 6\. From the Mouth of an Injured Head by Radical Face  
> 7\. Fear on Fire by Ruelle  
> 8\. Lay Me Down by The Oh Hellos  
> 9\. Dust to Dust (Acoustic) by The Civil Wars  
> 10\. Run Wild by Laney Jones  
> 11\. Only the Wild Ones by Dispatch  
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tracklist for this chapter:
> 
> 1\. Wolfman Agenda by Shakey Graves  
> 2\. Second Child, Restless Child by The Oh Hellos  
> 3\. Something Wild by Lindsey Stirling  
> 4\. She Lit A Fire by Lord Huron  
> 5\. Nature Boy by AURORA

 Once upon a time... 

 

1\. _You can buy me a collar and tell me to stay / But someone's gonna love the wolfman one day_

 

..there was a village, and in that village lived a man named Martin. Martin had never fit in. He was respected only because he was feared, and he was feared because he’d been found in the woods as a young boy. The villagers swore that the boy had been raised by wolves and that he wasn’t human, not really, not entirely.

Some said that when the moon shone bright enough the shadow Martin cast wasn’t that of a human at all, but that of a wolf. And so, whenever the moon shone brightly, the villagers would gather around his cottage at the edge of town to see if maybe he’d come out, to see if maybe they could catch a glimpse of the wolfman’s shadow. On these clear nights Martin preferred to wander into the woods where the villager’s didn’t dare come instead of being kept awake by their knocking on his door. Because of this he lived a quiet, lonely life. 

 

2\. _I was born the second child with a spirit running wild, running free / And they saw trouble in my eyes, they were quick to recognize the devil in me_

 

Miles from Martin’s village lay another small town surrounded on all sides by forest. In this town there lived a girl named Amanda. Amanda had never quite fit in, though her family was respectable enough and she had a good, simple life to look forward to. But Amanda wanted more. As a child she had begged for stories of the wild spirits that dwelled in the woods, of the animals that could speak and the people who weren’t people at all, but beasts or faeries or something in-between. She spoke of adventure, of leaving her sleepy little town behind and never going back.

The villagers laughed at her, told her she’d never marry well with an attitude like that. They joked that maybe she was one of the people-who-weren’t-people, that maybe she was a changeling, a faerie’s child. They were all just jokes and rumors until disaster came to the small town and they decided that Amanda was to blame. Hadn’t she invited trouble in with all her wild wishes for adventure? Fearing for the villagers’ wrath, Amanda packed the few things she had and fled into the forest.

 

3\. _If you're lost out where the lights are blinding / Caught and all the stars are hiding / That's when something wild calls you home_

 

The woods were dark and deep and though she’d been out exploring them before, Amanda was afraid. As night fell and the cold crept in she pulled her cloak tighter around herself and considered her options. Should she just huddle down somewhere and hope whatever came out at night would leave her alone? Perhaps it was better to keep walking, to keep moving until she ran across something, anything, that seemed safe.

The night grew darker and Amanda grew more and more tired. Eventually fatigue caused her to trip and fall and for a moment she considered just sleeping there and then, but the rustling of leaves and the fluttering of wings made her open her eyes. There, on the ground before her, sat a small brown bird. It didn't seem afraid of her at all and made no attempt to fly away when Amanda moved to get a better look at it. It peeped at her and flapped its wings and then hopped into the underbrush and Amanda slowly got up and dusted herself off. Something in her told her to follow the bird. It was an odd notion, a hunch of sorts, but not the bad kind. Not the kind that had told her she had to run that day, or the kind that warned her when a storm was coming in. No, this was something good.

She followed the little brown bird through the woods. Every time she threatened to fall behind the little creature would stop and peep at her and flap its wings and wait for her to catch up. She wasn't sure how long she'd walked, how far into the woods she must be by now. She was well and truly lost but she didn't feel lost, not really. Not with her little bird guiding her.

When she reached the edge of a clearing only to find a roaring fire with three figures dancing around it, Amanda wasn't afraid. She wasn't even afraid when she caught glimpses of their shadows, shadows that weren't human at all, shadows of beasts, of bears and foxes and wild winged crows. She stood and stared in awe until she realized that she'd lost track of her little brown bird. But wait - there by the fire now danced a fourth figure, shorter than the rest, and the shadow he cast was that of a little bird.

Amanda smiled, all sense of fear long forgotten, and stepped into the clearing. 

 

4\. _Where could that girl have gone / She left no trail but I cannot fail, I will find her / She lit a fire, but now she's in my every thought_

 

It had been a cold, clear day with a full moon approaching and so Martin wrapped himself in a warm cloak and ventured out into the woods for the night. It was all a familiar routine by now; he kept an eye out for the weather and knew when to leave and when he could stay. The villagers and the moonlight had caught him unawares maybe once or twice in the past few months, and he'd spent those nights inside with the door barred, trying desperately to drown out their knocking and shouting and wishing he was out between the trees, running wild. Surely they would give up one day.

If anyone knew these woods it was Martin. With his regular nightly outings he felt like he knew every tree, every rock, every stream and every clearing. The villagers swore these woods were dangerous, but they weren't. Not to him. He never felt unsafe; if there were strange creatures in these woods, they left him be. These trees didn't hold any surprises for him, not anymore. Except..

Martin smelled the smoke before he saw the light dancing further on between the trees. He heard voices - yelps and shouts and cheers and the squawking of a bird - but when he reached the clearing there was just one figure there. Someone was dancing all by themselves. A girl.

He inched forward slowly, making sure to stick to the darkness of the treeline. There she was, laughing and dancing, her dark hair spinning around her as she whirled. The fire cast flickering shadows all around and Martin could swear that other things were moving in them, that other creatures were moving around her. He caught glimpses of them - a fox that jumped and lunged and yipped, a crow that darted in and out of the fox's reach, a small bird circling around the dancing girl's head, and.. he felt a low growl build in chest that surprised even him. A bear was circling the girl and she didn't even seem to notice.

He wanted to move, wanted to jump in and warn her, to protect her somehow. There was an odd feeling that he hadn't felt before. A notion of sorts, a hunch, a feeling that this strange dark-haired dancing girl was important. Just as he'd made up his mind that he needed to do something, say something, she spotted the bear and stopped her wild whirling dance. Martin waited, ready to jump in if need be, but then she did something strange. She reached out and scratched the giant creature's head. The bear simply nuzzled her hand for a moment, then stepped back and let the girl continue her dance.

Martin watched her for  what felt like hours but could have just been minutes. He wasn't sure when he'd decided to sit down or when he'd drifted off to sleep. When he awoke and sunlight was filtering in through the leaves, all he knew was that his cloak was draped over him like a blanket, the clearing was empty and his dreams had been full of the dancing girl and the fire and the laughter of five people.

 

5\. (part one). _There was a boy / A very strange, enchanted boy / They say he wandered very far, over land and sea / A little shy and sad of eye but very wise was he_

 

"He's here again," said the bear-who-was-a-man, dark eyes fixed on a point across the clearing.

Amanda stood and dusted herself off and moved to stand beside him. There, between the trees: a shock of white hair, a dark cloak. Even now she felt the pull towards him, the little hunch that told her there was something important about the man who had been wandering the woods for days now. She couldn't tell if it was good or bad and when he hadn't left after that first night the little seed of fear had been planted again.

She remembered the feeling of the rough fabric of his cloak on her fingers when she'd draped it over him on that first night. _He's hardly dangerous when he's asleep_ , she'd said quietly to her companions. He hadn't looked dangerous. There was something about him, something she couldn't quite put her finger on and part of her had wanted to wake him, talk to him, find out more. And still she'd left before the morning came, because how could she trust someone dressed like the villagers that had so easily turned on her?

The fluttering of wings announced the arrival of the crow - tall and lanky with an easy smile and sharp, smart eyes. "The wolves are moving this way. We'll hear them tonight."

"Don't be scared," whispered the fae girl with the shadow of a fox, her iridescent eyes fixed on Amanda. "They don't come here."

"I'm not scared," Amanda replied, but her brow furrowed.  She _was_ scared. Just not for herself. 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This accidentally got a little longer than expected, so this fic will have three chapters instead of two! 
> 
> The tracklist for chapter two:
> 
> 5\. Nature Boy by AURORA (continued)  
> 6\. From the Mouth of an Injured Head by Radical Face  
> 7\. Fear on Fire by Ruelle

 5. (continued) _Then he said to me / "The greatest thing you'll ever learn / Is to love and be loved in return."_

 

There was no fire that night. The wolves attracted hunters bent on revenge, the bear explained. Better not let them know where they were. Not that they couldn't protect themselves, the faerie girl added with a twinkle in her eye.

Even without the fire they kept warm. Amanda slept peacefully, awaking only once sometime after midnight. She breathed a deep sigh of contentment and smiled in the dark. She was surrounded on all sides by warm bodies - some human, some animal - and their deep steady breaths made even the howls in the distance seem comforting. Here she was, a lost girl in the woods surrounded by the strangest of creatures, and she'd never before felt such a sense of belonging. Of family. Like something had been missing all this time and she was only just now finding it.

"It's love," whispered her little bird, and when Amanda turned she found him smiling, eyes still closed. "Even wild animals need love, you know."

"I'm not an animal," Amanda replied, confused. But he seemed to have fallen asleep once more. 

 

6.  _In my dreams I can hear a voice / A call, a withering echo / And it sings, it sings all-knowing words / But ones I can't understand / There's something missing / There's something lost in my head / And I know that I miss you / But I don't even know your name_

 

It was barely dawn when Amanda woke up again with an odd sense of urgency tugging at her mind. She carefully extracted herself from the warm nest of limbs and fur that was her friends and made her way to the edge of the clearing. There, on the opposite side she could just see the man leaving.

"Where do you think he's going?" asked the man-who-was-a-crow suddenly beside her.

She wasn't sure. "Maybe he's going home?"

They'd told her that he'd been wandering the forest for days, and Amanda wondered if he'd been looking for her. Did this mean he was giving up? There was still something pulling at her, telling her to do.. something.

"I can follow him, if you'd like."

She looked up at her friend and nodded. "Please."

With a rustle of wings he was gone.

\- 

The girl was gone. Sooner or later he'd have to face it, but Martin couldn't. Not yet. She was on his mind every waking moment and he saw her dancing in his dreams. How could he forget someone like her, who danced like she hadn't a care in the world, who didn't run from wild and fearsome creatures but embraced them instead? Still, he had never spent this long in the woods. He'd barely eaten, barely slept. She was gone. He needed to go home.

It didn't take long for him to realize something was wrong as he neared his village. He could hear shouting and there were feathers strewn about the path out of the woods. Feathers and blood and fur. Martin said a silent word of thanks for the fact that his cottage was closest to the edge of the trees and he slipped inside unseen. He didn't want to face the other villagers, not yet. Not if they were all riled up about something or the other. His entire being was pulling at him, telling him he should be back in the woods, back searching for the girl, but he ignored it as best he could. With a heavy sigh he started a fire in the hearth and hung his cloak and went to bed, a strong sense of sadness weighing on his mind.

Many hours later, as he made to fix himself his first warm meal in days, he couldn't help but think to himself - what if she didn't want to be found? 

 

7. _Gotta get away, gotta escape from the day light / I can see the way painted beneath the moon / Hold on for dear life / Until it's all gone / We'll come alive / And set fear on fire_

 

Martin had just seated himself, was about to take his first bite of food when a scratching at the shutters interrupted him. He rubbed the bridge of his nose. He was slowly beginning to feel like he'd never have peace as long as he stayed in the village. The scratching at the shutters continued and Martin grabbed the fire poker before heading to the window and taking a moment to listen. When the scratching continued even still he abruptly pulled both shutters open with a snarled "what?" , but faltered and frowned to see only a crow there, its head tilted and its clever dark eyes staring straight at him. It cawed - once, twice, but didn't otherwise react to his presence.

There was something odd about the bird, something uncanny, and Martin was close to closing the shutters again when the bird flapped its wings noisily. Maybe it was hurt, he thought to himself. Crows were smart. Maybe it was injured in some way and was seeking help. Stranger things had happened. He leaned down to rest the poker against the wall and then reached out slowly, testing to see if the crow would let him near. As he leaned forward movement in the distance caught Martin's eye. There, down the street and closer to the village came a group of people. Villagers. They were hard to miss, even with dusk setting in. He caught the scent of fire now, of torches, and the sounds of loud, angry voices. He watched as they came closer, standing as though nailed to the spot, silently hoping against all hope that they weren't coming for him.

"See!" shouted one of the villagers. "Smoke from the chimney - didn't I say it? He's dared return!"

"Pretending all is well with the world after calling the wolves down on us!" shouted another. 

"Full after a good feast, no doubt," added someone else again. "With the blood still on his face!"

Martin slammed the shutters shut, paying no mind to the indignant squawk that came from behind them and sunk to the ground against the wall. Wolves. Of course. He'd heard them howling all through the night. They must've come into the village, killed someone's livestock, and now the whole town was up in arms looking to blame someone. Looking to blame him. Why go after the pack when they could single him out? He closed his eyes, rested his head back against the wall, sifted through the rising sense of panic in order to think.

The door should be barred. If he could keep them outside they might lose interest after a while, like they usually did. He took a deep breath and got up to slam a bar across the shutters and then did the same to the door and the windows at the other end of his small cabin. The bars should hold long enough for the villagers to grow tired of their witch hunt. There was nothing else to do but wait.

It wasn't long at all until there was an angry pounding on his door. "Martin!" he recognized the baker's voice. "You can't hide any longer, we know what you've done."

"I've done nothing," he growled, reaching to grab the fire poker once more before sinking down into the nearest chair. He knew it was futile to argue, that they had made up their minds about him long, long ago. He didn't even listen to what else they yelled at him, their voices joined together now to accuse him of everything they could possibly think to blame him for. He just sat, turning the poker over and over and over in his hands, trying hard to imagine he wasn't locked up and hiding in his own home, trying to imagine he was out in the woods, between the trees, running like the wildness in his heart told him to. He could almost feel the breeze on his face, hear the birds instead of the shouting of the villagers, could almost see the fire dancing between the trees again, could almost smell it burning, could almost see her..

It was all so real. He couldn't even hear the villagers anymore, could just hear the cawing of a crow and the crackle and pop of fire -

Martin's eyes shot open just as a round of cheers rose up from the other side of the wall. Long tendrils of smoke crept in underneath his cabin door.  Fire. The torches. Realization came crashing into him. They'd started with the door. They didn't mean to just flush him out; they didn't mean for him to escape. They didn't mean for him to _survive_.

He made his way to the other side of the cabin, to the last window he'd barred. He could hear them on the other side of it already. They yelled and they cursed and they banged on the shutters. There was no escape. Either he waited for the smoke and the fire to get him or he tried his luck with the villagers. He brandished the fire poker in one hand as he removed the bar and cursed himself for leaving his ax out in the woodshed.

He took a breath. Readied his makeshift weapon.

Then swung the shutters out, hard. He felt the wood connect with someone outside and the curses grew louder. He launched himself out of the window with a howl and immediately swung the poker up hard to connect with a man's jaw. It stunned him long enough for Martin to be able to turn and kick the villager who had been hit by the shutter in the chest, sending him reeling backward. He'd cleared himself some space but the commotion attracted the attention of the angry mob out front and soon his only way out was blocked, what with the house at his side and the woodshed at his back.

They were closing in now, at least twenty men and women. He recognized them all, knew every single face. They'd all treated him with something bordering on friendliness before, but he knew he'd never belonged. He'd known they didn't trust him, but he'd never thought it'd come to this. He could see it in their eyes, could almost smell their intent on the air.

They were willing to kill him.

He fended off the first two, stood his ground against the next three, but didn't last more than a minute against the group that charged him. They had him bruised and beaten and on his knees within moments and he wondered vaguely if they'd leave it at that. He pushed off against the ground, blood running into his eyes from what he could only guess was a cut on his brow, and tried to regain his footing. He was surprised to find no resistance, no boots kicking him back to the ground, and the crowd had gone oddly silent around him. When he was back on his feet, Martin wiped the blood from his eyes and stared first at the terrified expressions of the villagers now suddenly between him and the shed.

He turned slowly. There, between him and escape reared a huge, dark shape. A bear bigger than he had ever seen, taller than any man, its lips rolled back to display long sharp teeth. It let out a deafening roar that sent the villagers cowering back even further before it crashed down onto all fours. Something stirred at the back of Martin's mind when he met the beast's eyes. Recognition.

A cawing and a flash of black feathers behind the bear caught Martin's attention and he realized he had no choice. The fire roared and he could feel the heat of the flames that had made their way through his house within minutes, tearing up all his earthly belongings in the process. He could stay here until either the villagers or the bear made a move on him.. or he could trust in this giant creature like the girl had done. He took a tentative step forward. The bear huffed but didn't charge; its dark, wise eyes watched him instead. With his heart pounding in his chest Martin took another step, then another. He passed closely by the terrifying beast but it never made any attempt to give chase. Once Martin was past it the bear just growled lowly at the villagers as if to warn them not to try the same.

Still, the fact that Martin was making his escape seemed to stir something in the villagers because one of them, the baker, squared his shoulders and stepped forward. "He's got the beast charmed, just like the wolves! We can't let him get away!"

"We can't fight a monster like that," another man added hesitantly.

"There's more of us than there is of them," said a woman with a voice full of resolve and an expression of disgust.

That seemed to rally the rest of them and they moved forwards as a group with only the slightest hints of hesitation, waving torches and axes and pitchforks. The bear reared again and let out a roar that Martin felt in his bones. Then a crow - that same crow? - was flapping its wings in his face, cawing loudly at him, making him stumble back and away from the crowd and the bear and into the quiet road that led into the village.

"Go!" someone yelled but when he whirled around to see who had said the word he saw no one. He thought for a moment he saw movement at the edge of the forest and even took a tentative step in that direction, but then another angry roar split the air and rattled Martin's bones. When he turned the angry mob had descended on the bear. The fierce creature was rearing and fighting; a mass of muscle and claws and teeth versus many, too many people. There was no way it would survive against them all.

The crow circled the villagers and cawed once, twice, before swooping in and attacking the villagers from above. Soon a little brown bird joined in to do the same, pecking and clawing at heads and faces and distracting the angry men and women. The bear had started to retreat, Martin realized, but its chances were slim. He had to do something. A growl escaped from his lips. It caught him by surprise but there was no time to ponder - he had to move. He had dropped the fire poker at one point, so his fists would have to suffice now.

With a roar of his own Martin launched himself into the fray.

What followed was a blur. He was fighting - kicking and punching and getting hit again and again and again and again and there was a mass of fur and rage beside him and then there was red and the colors in his vision shifted and he wasn't sure where he ended and the fur began. He wasn't sure how long they fought, became aware of the world beyond the fray only when a hand pulled at him and he turned to see dark hair and dark eyes and bloody hands and her. It was her -

"Move" demanded a voice and she was gone - no, not gone, she'd moved to help up a dark and bloodied man, and there was someone else in her place. A boy, a young man, with bones as light as feathers and eyes as hard as stone telling him to move, move, move, that they had to go now and he stood and he followed as a crow landed and then was a crow no more, but a tall figure who lifted the bloodied man's arm over his shoulder and helped him walk.

"Are you hurt?" the girl asked him as they paused between the trees, far enough into the woods that they were out of sight of the road. Martin wanted to respond, to speak but when he opened his mouth his teeth were full of blood, someone's blood, and he shook his head instead. He hurt, yes, but he wasn't hurt, not like the man they were carrying, the man whose skin had turned ashy, who didn't seem conscious.

"We need to hurry," spoke the tall man hoarsely, concern lining his face, and they moved once more, picking through the underbrush as though they knew every rock, every root, every bush like Martin did.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The tracklist for chapter three:
> 
> 8\. Lay me Down by The Oh Hellos  
> 9\. Dust to Dust (acoustic) by The Civil Wars  
> 10\. Run Wild by Laney Jones  
> 11\. Only the Wild Ones by Dispatch

 

8\. _Take me home, I want to go / Down the road that will take me to the living oak / And Lord, I know it's a heavy load / But I owe it to my brothers to carry them home_

 

The crow hadn't needed to speak for them to know something was wrong. Amanda had heard the cawing in the distance and that feeling, that pull had become that much stronger and her nose had filled with the scent of smoke. By the way her little bird and the man with the shadow of a bear had jumped to their feet she'd known that they knew, too. There was something wrong with the stranger.

Her feet had never carried her so fast before, her step had never been so sure as she dashed through the woods. When she reached the end of the trees and saw the smoke billowing up from the cottage roof and heard the shouting she stopped, but her companions moved ahead.

There was silence. A long, frozen moment in which no one breathed, nothing moved. No - not nothing. The man appeared from behind the house, his face pale beneath blood and bruises that were still forming. The man-who-was-a-bear stood between him and the villagers like a wall of muscle and fur and claws and teeth.

More voices. Her bear reared and roared a warning.

Amanda knew that was all they would see, that they wouldn't see the gentle man that lurked beneath the surface. They had to leave, had to return to the forest before things got worse. Why weren't they moving? She yelled for them to go -

The world loosed a collective breath and chaos erupted.

She moved when the world did, moved towards the fray, the mass of limbs and shouts and snarls both human and inhuman. Would they make it out alive? Would she?

A breath, a step, and she was surrounded on all sides but Amanda felt calm. Oddly so. She moved without thinking. Her fingers entwined in soft, white fur, staining it red, and she spoke but she didn't recognize her own voice. The stranger, the man who wasn't a man, met her eyes and recognition flashed.

There was no time.

She was lifting him up then, helping up the bloodied form of her gentle friend who had saved the stranger. The crow was on his other side, dark eyes darker still with concern and anger and fear.

It wasn't until they were between the trees that she felt her heart pound hard in her chest again, felt air rush into her lungs, felt her small body protest beneath the weight. She staggered to a halt and only then realized how wounded the stranger looked, blood drying on his face. "Are you hurt?" she asked, but he shook his head no and there was no time to argue and so they pressed on, on between the trees, hearts guiding them towards the clearing.

-

The journey through the woods took long, far too long, and every time the bear-who-was-a-man sagged Martin felt a sharp stab of guilt. They'd come for him.

It felt like they'd walked for hours and Martin could only guess why. Why drag a dying man through the woods? Why not let him rest in peace upon the soft moss, between the tall trees? The questions burned in his throat but the determined expressions of his strange companions left him not daring to speak them out loud.

The doubts made way for new questions when a shimmer between the trees caught his eye. A flash of colour, of light, of movement in the darkness. The others moved faster, now. Had they seen it too? It dashed ahead of them, danced between the trees, until it finally halted for just long enough for Martin to see that it was a fox - a fox that glittered and gleamed with a pale faerie light of its own, whose fur shone and shifted with a myriad of colors. And then it was gone again, disappearing between the trees.

A moment later they came upon the clearing, bright in the light of the moon and the shimmer of a million stars above them, but something had changed. Martin's step faltered in surprise.

In the middle of the clearing stood a tall tree. It looked ancient; its thick, sturdy branches reached up to the sky and its roots grew partially above the earth, old and twisted and strong. The fox was nowhere to be seen, but its presence had been pushed out of his mind completely because of one simple fact: the tree hadn't been there when Martin had left that morning.

The girl seemed surprised for only a moment before her expression softened. Martin watched and followed at a distance as she and the two men carried their lifeless friend into the clearing. They paused at the foot of that magnificent tree and now Martin could see an opening, a parting by the roots that seemed to lead into a burrow of sorts, and it was there that the three placed the bear-who-was-a-man, his body gone completely still. Realization fell like ice in his stomach. They had no hopes of saving him. This was a funeral.

 

9\. _You've held your head up, you've fought the fight / You bear the scars, you've done your time / Listen to me / You've been lonely too long_

 

They lit no fire that night and sat huddled together between the roots of the ancient tree. Her little bird and the crow didn't speak, but their presence was comforting, as was the presence of the stranger beside her. He felt safe now that he was close. Not just safe - natural, as natural as her little bird and the crow and the fox and the bear, her poor bear.

He'd been just as lost as she had, Amanda realized as she looked up at him into eyes clear and blue and sad. She reached out her hands. On her right fingers entwined with hers immediately, but on her left.. a breath, then the stranger carefully, hesitantly took her hand as well. Despite the weariness and sadness that clung to her bones she felt the corners of her lips tug up into a smile.

-

Her name was Amanda, she'd told him in a hushed whisper when the others had fallen asleep beside them. Her right hand stroked the smaller man's hair as he slept; her left was still in his. Martin didn't think he could let go - there was something powerful and familiar in her touch, as though pulling at a memory he didn't know he had. It had come to his surprise that that familiarity didn't end with her. It extended to the lanky figure, the crow, a comforting warmth asleep at his side, and to the young man. Even the bear had been familiar and the pain of his loss left a void in his chest that made it hard to breathe.

 

10\. _There's a light at the end of the darkness / The last step is always the hardest / But we fight and we push against a world that's caving in / Run wild, run free / We won't hide what we were meant to be_

 

Martin awoke to the first rays of sunlight and a sky that was painted pink and gold. Warm, peacefully slumbering bodies surrounded him and he felt, despite the sadness still within him, at home.

A sigh escaped him and his eyes slipped closed once more. He felt sleep about to pull him back under when a question tugged at his mind.

The sky?

He blinked against the morning light.

Yes, the sky was clear above him, the light of dawn sending glittering reflections onto the dewdrops in the clearing.

He frowned. Where were the old, twisting branches? Where were the roots he'd leaned against hours ago? Had he moved during the night?

"Martin?" A quiet voice came from beside him and he turned to face the girl as she sat up and rubbed the sleep from her eyes.

"Amanda -" he began, a million questions begging to be asked, but the words faltered when she held up a hand to ask for silence. She had turned to look over her shoulder and her eyes lit up brighter than the morning sun.

Martin sat up to follow her gaze and felt the heavy weight of sadness fall from his shoulders.

There, a little ways away in the clearing, surrounded by dewdrops that sparkled and shone, lay two figures. One was a fox whose fur shimmered with a myriad of colours. It lay curled, almost protectively, around the far larger figure of a softly slumbering bear.

 

11\. _And only the wild ones give you something and never want it back / The riot and the rush of the warm night air / Only the wild ones are the ones you can never catch / Stars are up now, no place to go but everywhere_

 

Once upon a time in the deep dark woods there was a clearing and in it danced a girl around a fire, her dark hair spinning with her as she whirled. She wasn't alone; with her danced and laughed and spun five others, and though their figures were human, they weren't - not really, not entirely. As they danced, the fire cast its flickering light all around and in it moved the shadows of strange beasts, of little birds and foxes that glowed with pale faerie light, of wild winged crows and gentle bears and wolves that had found home.


End file.
